


Wolf in wolf's clothing

by BorderSpam



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Co-workers, F/M, Fic for friend, Friendship, The COV media department would be such a wild place to be involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24146020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorderSpam/pseuds/BorderSpam
Summary: Ariana Serino is a relatively new edition to the COV media department's editing team headed by the Holy Father. Hanging late in the editing room after avoiding her assigned dayshift leads her to find outwhyno one else ever seems to stay after hours.Past midnight is whenTroylikes to work.
Relationships: Troy Calypso/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Wolf in wolf's clothing

* * *

**Gift fic for[Arthithicc-Nikyri](https://tmblr.co/mFWAB1sFFjU9ktQ4i1C8YOA) of her OCs Ari and Jameson, and her Troy.**

* * *

Jameson had been right.

This was _so_ much easier than working in the kitchens...

Ari snorted to herself smugly as she popped another piece of hard candy into her mouth, lazily eying the slow crawl of the progress bar on her monitor as the file continued to render.

This was a piece of cake, this was so chilled out in comparison.

She’d thought at first it would have been terrifying, that working in such close proximity with the God King would have been even worse than dealing with the head cooks, but man, she’d had nothing to worry about in retrospect. A whole month now since she’d joined the editing team, and she’d not seen Troy _once_.

The other editors in his media team had filled her in, and it seemed for all J insisted God King Calypso was a “Pretty normal person under all the bullshit”, he was an enigma to work for. Fair, but _weird_. Quiet, but _frightening_. If you handed in your projects on time and didn’t get in his way? The job was piss as long as you had the skills he wanted. Safe lodgings within the main COV compound, food and medical care, and a position in the God King’s own media team was something followers would tear each other’s faces off for, and **did** according to the footage she was currently working on.

If you _didn’t_ pull your weight though?

Well.

They’d not gone into details, but made clear through hushed warnings that she _really should make sure she didn’t fuck this up_.

Bobbing her head in time to the music thrumming through her earphones, she slid further into the huge custom chair, pulling her knees up to her chest with a shiver in the cool dark of the editing room. It was always cold in here she’d found, aircon set to suck the heat out of the machines and consoles that lined the rows of editing desks in the dim glow of the sleep mode displays, while Calypso’s throne-like personal station flickered data across the wall of monitors it faced that she’d yet to actually see him use. Helios had been so _pompous_ and insufferably showy when it came to displays of wealth, but even living on the station for years with J before they ended up on Pandora, she’d never had access to tech or setups like this before. “The God Twins provide” really did have credence when you worked directly under them. Everything from the top end rigs to the leather high-backed editing chairs stamped with Troy’s emblem felt like it cost more than she’d ever earn, a sad reality she considered while running her thumb along the bottom row of keys on her backlit keyboard.

 _Ariana Serino_ shone at her from the custom board’s base, pulsing red light against matte black just like everything else in the room. For someone who was literally never here, Troy clearly had a _tight grip_ on the department’s aesthetic.

She had hated the kitchens, she really had.

The head cooks were egotistical shitheads with superiority complexes who like so many of the Twins’s followers, saw any step up in authority as somehow being closer to their Gods. They knew she was like a sister to Jameson, and they _knew how close Jameson was to Father Troy_. It had painted a target on her she’d rather have avoided, and they had never, once, gotten off her damn back.

ANYTHING they could berate her over had been used against her, anything to make them feel like they were better than her. Better than someone so close to the _King’s Pastor_.

J knew, he’d seen how tired she had been, how stressed. It had been him that had gotten her this sweet gig, and she’d made sure to work her ass off for the last month straight. No one seemed to have actually noticed, but then again, no one was screaming abuse at her either, so she must be doing a good enough job. Troy didn’t come across as the sort of boss to hold back in letting her know if she _wasn’t_.

Checking in on her next task with a quick click on the flashing mail icon on her screen, she sighed and rolled her stiff shoulders with a stretch, tapping the keybinds to begin the asset download as she scanned the mail contents:

> _“Let’s Flay 22.12.NL, due scheduling & upload 48 hours fn._
> 
> _Focus on clip 4, 7, & 11, Ty closeups, keyframes 4-gore use @ clip 1-2. Get that shit **visceral.**_
> 
> GKT **”**

She’d certainly not had any negative feedback from the God King at least, then again, she’d not had any words from him bar these shorthand communications, and they seemed identical to the ones he sent to the full editing group. She’d wondered more than once how much he actually knew about her based on what Jameson had told him in order to get her this position, or, if he actually even knew about her _at all_.

J loved to gloat to her about all the effort he’d had to labor over to get her in, all the late night convincing and grandiose bullshitting he’d done in her favor to the God King’s ear, wheedling her into the editing team like his own personal project, but honestly? She was pretty sure Troy didn’t even know her name, let alone much else. She was a symbol on his mailing list, a faceless employee to pump out fuel for the COV media machine at his behest, and being so unimportant had some _sweet_ benefits.

Ones like the 3am flashing on the wall clock facing her across the room, neon numbers burning red through the inky darkness.

Mannn, she thought with a smirk as she checked the open messenger app on screen. She’d had _such_ a good lay in today…

Not being important meant no one actually cared _when_ she showed up for her shift. She’d realised last week after oversleeping and arriving hours late in a panic, then not having anyone so much as bat an eye. Shifts here didn’t seem to actually _matter_. They had assigned ones, but people just seemed to really come and go as they pleased. Long as they clocked in the required amount of hours and sent on their completed tasks, there apparently wasn’t any consequences, and that suited her perfectly.

She could sleep as late in the day as she wanted, drag her ass out of bed and to her desk, and work away till the early AM hours. A nice empty editing studio with no distractions, no colleagues to deal with, and no J pinging her 40 times an hour with silly chatter, she confirmed as she checked the empty notifications in the chat app. He must be asleep, it was literally the only time the guy shut up, not that she’d change that for the world. Jameson filled the sad silences of Ari’s life with infectious positivity. She owed him so much…

The sudden flash of fluorescent light as the room’s door swung open startled her out of her thoughts, and immediately into habits formed a decade ago on Eden-6. She froze, silent, heart slowing as her eyes narrowed and then shifted smoothly towards the danger on the other side of the room as she heard the door slam shut.

Padded, heavy footsteps marked someone’s approach along the side of the low walled editing desk rows, and she sunk lower into the darkness of her cubicle, flattening her silhouette like dad had taught her years ago as she slid the headphones down around her neck. Stay low. Stay quiet. Listen closely. Don’t move. It won’t _see_ you. You won’t be _eaten_.

She felt her heart skip a beat as the shadow appeared before the predator, the dim lights of the editing room just enough to cast it on the floor as they approached, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she for a moment recognised the narrow height of the shape prowling towards her row. Jameson. Thank God, for a second she’d thought…

No, not Jameson. It was still coming, and the silhouette was only getting larger. Jameson wasn’t this tall. Jameson wasn’t this graceful. She’d convinced herself for a moment that she was safe, but she wasn’t.

Ariana felt her bones turn to ice as the harsh light of the data flickering across the throne’s monitors revealed the towering outline of God King Troy.

He shifted slowly, back turning towards her as he faced his desk, unaware of the woman watching him from under the gaps of her monitors.

He looked.. tired? Smaller, softer. Not exactly as terrifying as she had prepared herself for, not as imposing in a loose sweater and low set glasses as he was in raised collars and draped fur. He was still very clearly Father Troy, but like he’d shucked off a heavy costume after a long day. Neater, less makeup, hair looser and not as spiked. No chains or accessories hanging from his belt, just his slacks and a rolled up sweater sleeve his massive prosthetic was connecting to its socket through.

She trembled nervously as he stiffly lowered his weight into the hulking chair in front of her, settling the cup of coffee he’d been carrying down next to his flesh arm as he deftly hit keys with the cybernetic fingers of his right and began to pull up files across the monitors flashing to life in front of him.

He had _no idea she was here_ Ari realised, beginning to calm as the scent of his coffee filed the room alongside the quick tapping of his mismatched fingers across keys. What was she meant to do…?

He clearly thought he was alone here. She’d never heard of the God King looking like this, the twins were always pristine in their curated appearances when around others. Grunge psycho-chic or draped in gold and jewels, but never _average_. The idea of Troy looking relatively normal like this? It felt like she shouldn’t be seeing it at all. It felt _private_. She pressed her palms harder against the flat of her desk and eyed the distance between the curve of his shoulders and the entry doorway she was considering bolting through.

“Shit” she hissed through gritted teeth. He’d catch her, he’d either see her from the corner of his eye or hear the automated door as it opened for her, she was running out of options. If he caught her trying to sneak out, he’d probably be even angrier, right? He’d prefer if she just broke the silence and apologised for interrupting him, she decided as she swallowed the nervous lump insisting on tightening her throat. J said he liked it when people were honest. He liked it when people didn’t _bullshit_ him, and J knew Troy. She should just.. greet him. Dad used to say it was better to face a Tyrant head first than die with its teeth in your back when you tried to run, right?

She slowly straightened, lifting her chest off the desk and leaning silently back into her seat as she carefully tucked her hair behind her ears and flattened out her tank. Wide eyes not leaving the back of his head as he hunched over his station while she began to pump herself up.

 _You got this Ariana. You’ve faced bigger fangs than this asshole has, he’s just a man. He can be reasonable, just **say something**_.

She breathed out slowly, steadying her lungs before breaking the silence.

“Forgive me your majesty, I didn’t know y-”

She startled out of her sentence as he whipped round to face her, unprepared for the violent speed of his reaction as he rose out his seat.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE??” Troy bellowed over her quiet greeting, and her brain stalled in trying to respond as he stormed towards her desk.

“I.. I.. I’m just.. working some overtime, Father Troy, catching up on som - _Ah_!”

She flinched as he yanked the mouse out of her hand, ice cold metal digits tearing it out of her fingers and onto the desk in front of him, expertly pulling up her activity monitor script over the chat window where Jameson’s afk profile pic still flashed.

“Overtime? Fucking _bullshit_.” he growled, flashing gold capped teeth as he sneered inches from her face. “LOOK.”

She cleared her throat quietly, cowering under his looming torso as she snapped her eyes to the onscreen log he was referring to.

“You clocked in 3 hours ago.. _Bunny_..” ~~-Her chat nick? He’d seen oh god this was so embarrassing oh g-~~ “Overtime means working after your shift, not starting it in the middle of the fucking night. Did you just _lie_ to me?!”

Wow. She was dead. This was it. It was the end. Why’d she ever listened to J, he was an idiot. She should have just run. She was going to be ripped apart by this lanky asshole and it was all J’s fault for insisting he was _nice_ underneath. She was going to haunt that green bitch for the rest of his life. Nothing left to lose now, she accepted with finality. Just be honest. He was either going to break her neck or not.

“I’m.. sorry.” She whispered, then continued as she realised with rising surprise that he was waiting to _hear the rest_.

“I was very late today and I just wanted.. to make sure I finished these edits for you for tomorrow. I don’t have the right tech in my quarters, it felt like the right thing to do was just stay here and get it done..”

Ari waited as the silence continued, swallowing tightly as she raised her eyes slowly, hoping for a positive reaction. He was quiet, still hovering above her and leaning heavy on the massive prosthetic still resting on her desk as he massaged the bridge of his nose with his human fingers, but his face had relaxed, his mouth no longer a tight grimace. He just looked.. sad, and tired, and like he was _done_ with this.

“You’re Ariana, right?” he muttered through an exhale as he pressed his fingers tighter into the corners of his closed eyes under the glasses.

“Yes Tr- _SIR!_ Sir. Ariana Ser-”

“I don’t care.”

She jumped slightly as the metal limb to her right lifted off the desk as he stood.

“I don’t care when you get the work done. It’s fine.” he sighed, voice rough and quiet.

“I don’t shift people late because I don’t _want_ people here late, but you can stay till you get your shit done.”

His hand dropped to his side as he looked down at her, meeting her worried gaze over the frames of his glasses.

“..but don’t _ever_ lie to me again. You’re here because Jameson recommended you, and as much as a pain in the ass as he can be, I trust Jameson. This is your _one strike_.”

She slowly felt the tension relax out of her joints as he turned and began to walk back towards his station, flopping down into the massive chair with a sigh as he raised his eyes to hers again.

“If he hadn’t, and you were anyone else and lied to me like that? …You’d be dead where you sat.”

Ari twisted her fingers between her hands nervously as he swiveled towards his monitors and began to type once more. How the hell had she survived that. How had that _worked out_ when she’d been so close to getting the axe, figuratively and _literally_. She checked the chat app once more while beginning to settle back into a more comfortable position. Jameson was still offline, he was probably sleeping soundly through the most stress she’d had in years, typical.

Opening the editing software again, she began to work on the next clip in her log, painfully aware of typing as quietly as possible so as not to interrupt her _new colleague_.

As the minutes ticked by, she found herself relaxing slowly. The atmosphere stayed desperately tense, and the God King’s heavy silence punctuated each harsh snap of a key or frustrated sigh he made all the more as they continued to work together. Troy was noticeably on edge, fidgeting in the corner of her vision every now and then, tugging at the rolled shoulder of his sweater or trying to sweep his hair forward as if his appearance was upsetting him, making him feel awkward in some way.

He was angry with himself, more than anything. This was Jameson’s _friend_. This was his only friend’s closest companion, the person he described as _a sister_ , and this was going to be her first experience of him?

He hadn’t meant to snap earlier. She’d just caught him so unprepared. No one was meant to _be_ here tonight, he should have been able to get these final shots compiled and queued for upload in peace. Instead, he was sitting in the same room as someone he’d probably just terrified, trying to work while hyper aware he was out of character, and he _hated_ being out of character around others. He didn’t even have his fucking hair done, he looked like a tool. This was not the kind of cringe he enjoyed, and he had no experience in how to deal with this situation.

Should he say something? He wasn’t sure, she probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway he worried, glancing over his shoulder at the back of her monitors, just able to make out her hands working away under them. Jameson would tell him to _say something_ , but he didn’t know what that something should even be. What if he just made this worse. This wheedling grip of anxiety in his gut was one of Troy’s least favorite feelings. It was the kind of stupid, unmanageable worry that left your heart beating just a little too fast, your palm sweaty, it was horrible. He liked to be in control, always. Of everything, but _especially_ himself. Feeling like a nervous child in his own damn editing office, where he had come to clear his mind tonight so he could possibly get some sleep later? It was bullshit, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tapped his fingers against the empty coffee cup to his left, trying to focus on what he should say rather than how awkward the atmosphere was.  
  
“You.. uh..”

He winced to himself at how his voice caught in his throat. _Great start, **God King**. Fuck. Get your act on!_

“- _Ahem_ \- You know Jameson a long time, right?” He prompted, noting the sounds of her typing had stopped in response, and the slight squeak of leather behind him meant she had shifted in her seat.

“Yes sir...” Ari responded meekly, barely audible over the wall of monitors between them.

“ _Troy_. Troy is ok right now. It’s not like there’s anyone else around, huh?” He called back, feeling his confident act begin to fall back into place as his practiced nonchalant speaking tone shifted over the tightness in his voice from a moment ago.

He felt the pull of a smirk at the corners of his mouth as he heard a soft breath of a laugh from Ariana, and the tension beginning to disperse from the room.

“Yes, si-Troy! Sorry. Troy.” She called back, louder this time, and he leaned back a little more comfortably into his seat.   
  
“Yeah we’ve known each other a long time!” She continued, voice tilting upwards in obvious excitement.

“We met on Helios, when we were kids.” Ari offered, noting the slight turn of the Holy Twin’s head towards her as he listened.

“Well **I** was a kid, he was a bit older, but we were in the same class in what passed for a school on that place. He didn’t have many friends his age I guess, and I had no friends at all, so he kind of just attached to me! You know how some people are just like that?” A quiet snort of agreement from the desk in front of her making clear that yes, Troy knew exactly what ‘kind of people’ Jameson was exactly like.

“We just adopted each other then.” She followed. “We’ve kind of always been together since. He talked too much, he said, and that I talked too little! He’s been trying to make me get better at that.. actually.. uhh..” she trailed off, feeling a rush of returned awkwardness in the fact she was currently _monologuing at a deity_ who could rip in her two if she irritated him. 

He shifted further in his seat, turning far enough for her to catch the reflection of his monitors in his eye as he glanced back at her. “No, go on.” he encouraged reassuringly. “Kind of interesting to hear someone _else’s_ opinion of the caustic tool for once.”

She caught the wolfish smirk before he turned back towards his screens, and felt a genuine smile of her own blossom in the relief that she wasn’t talking too much, he actually seemed to be enjoying this in some way. “Sure. Umm... Oh! We left Helios before everything went crazy up there, not long after all that shit happened with Jack. I think the COV was just starting up around then..” she mused for a moment, then let out a short laugh. “He’s my brother now I guess, and like you said before, he’s a pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything!” Ari chuckled, before excitedly continuing. “Oh man! Sorry, I-I mean, I don’t need to explain that, do I! I guess _**you** _of all people know all about that kind of feeling for someone like a sibling, right?”

Her smile faded as the seconds ticked by to no response, just the quick tapping of his fingers across the keys as he continued to work. That cold tension began to creep back into the air, and for a moment, she wondered if she really should have shut up earlier.   
  
“Where were you before Helios?” he prompted, voice controlled and tone unsettlingly blasé as he deftly opened up 3 more windows and dragged clips into them, his head subtly moving with his eyes as they shifted from file to file. “You clearly weren’t **born** there.”

The misdirection didn’t escape her, but she knew he was purposefully attempting to put her at ease by continuing the conversation, and it wasn’t a gesture she’d reject.  
  
“No, no I was born on Eden-6. I was there my whole childhood with my family before we all moved to-”

His raucous barking laugh interrupted her mid sentence, and she blanched, unsure of what she had said that was funny.

“Eden-6! _Mannnnn_!” he balked, hiccuping laughter rolling into a growling chuckle. “Dude, sucks for you, that place is a fuckin’ swampass shithole.”

He broke into laughter again, tilting his head back and running his hand back through the thick hair that she realised had been falling in front of his face this whole time, and Ariana saw _red_.

What the hell was funny about Eden-6? They were living on fucking _Pandora_ by **choice** , and he calls Eden-6 a shithole? Seriously? She squeezed her fists shut and barely registered the bite of her long nails as they dug into her palms, completely aware she was losing the battle to keep quiet and not say something she’d regret.

“Wow. Funny. So what kind of _up-its-own-ass_ wealthy bullshit homeworld did _you_ come from?” Ari snapped back, before almost instantly reeling from how stupid an idea that outburst was.

She recoiled back into her chair as fear crept up her spine again, and felt her stomach drop even further as he slowly stood out of his seat, turning towards her. 

His icy eyes met hers as he crossed the distance between their desks, half hooded and lazy above the rims of his glasses, maintaining their contact as he stopped in front of her monitors and calmly reached his prosthetic over before gently plucking the empty soda can off the desk beside her. She felt a wave of confusion as he turned with one last glare in her direction, before he began to walk towards the wall near the entrance door. She finally noticed he was carrying _his coffee cup_ in the other hand. 

Oh.

He wasn’t going to kill her. He was just.. getting more drinks. For both of them it seemed, considering she could hear the hiss of the team’s coffee machine in the dark, and the quiet open and close of their small stocked fridge. Ari stared down at her hands in her lap, cringing with each step as she heard him approach, desperately embarrassed by her overreaction. 

She winced as she heard the clunk of the soft drink can he’d placed on the desk inches in front of her, and muttered a breathy “ _Sorry._ ”, still avoiding looking at him directly. The tap of his prosthetic’s finger on the rim of the can was a clear signal he wanted her to however, and she reluctantly raised her eyes to meet his, painfully aware of her flushed cheeks. 

“Don’t worry about it.” he chuckled, still looming over the rise of her monitors like a lanky predator eying up its next meal. “J said you were good at speaking your mind. I kinda appreciate that with the people I have here. Means the feedback I get is uhh” he raised his eyebrows as he thoughtfully looked to the side “.. actually _useful_ at times.”

“Besides, you’re wrong anyway, little miss _thinks-she-knows-shit._ ” he scoffed, smiling into his coffee as he sipped from the refilled cup, then letting his gaze shift afterwards from the hot drink back to the extremely confused Ariana.   
  
“I’m from a _shithole_ _**too**_.”

It took her a second for what he’d said to really register, and then Ari laughed. Really laughed, deep from her guts in snorting, gasping bursts. A moment later, he joined her, and for the first time that night it was _truly_ genuine from him, even if it was quiet and tired, and still a _little_ awkward.

The pause after was comfortable, and he stalked back to his chair, slumping into it as he nursed his drink.   
  
She eyed the can he’d brought her, the exact same energy drink as what had been empty on her desk, and the realisation he had been paying such attention felt oddly flattering to Ariana, like warmth deep in her belly. She reached out and touched the can, only the sounds of Troy sipping his drink and the fans and quiet clicks of the machine components around them breaking the silence. It wasn’t something she was used to. She was used to not mattering enough to notice things _about_ , and wasn’t sure how to really handle this feeling. It felt welcoming, but frightening. Like being on the precipice of something. Like _**change**_.

“By the way” he smoothly interrupted her thoughts as he called over to her “I’m here most nights, around this time. If, you know, you do prefer working late, just keep in mind I’ll be around too. Long as it doesn’t affect _your work_ , I’m ok to share the editing room with you like this.”

Ari was unsure why exactly, but that did something to her. It was innocent, it was an olive branch of friendship, she _knew_ , but the reaction was visceral. Her instincts kicked in once more and a thrill of cold ran up her spine, prompting her to stand quickly and finally attempt to take her leave, approaching his desk nervously to bid her farewell.

“Troy, um, God King, thank you! For.. the chat, it was .. fun?” she stammered while eying the exit door as he lazily watched from over his raised cup.

“I’ve finished the tasks you queued for me so I’m going to, um, go to sleep hahhh.” she laughed unconvincingly, wringing her hands together as she awkwardly sidestepped towards the door, slowly turning away from him as she edged closer to her escape. 

“Mmhm.. sure. Night.” he mused, cocking an eyebrow as he considered her with deep set interest, before continuing just as she reached towards the door controls.

"Oh, and _**Bunny**_?“ Troy drawled, watching as she stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to face the editing chair he was draped over.

"Keep all of this - " He gestured lazily between them, and raised a finger to tap the frame of his glasses as he locked eyes with her over the lenses. "- to yourself."

"Being _cute_ doesn't stop wolves from eating little rabbits alive... Understand?“

There was a pregnant silence as Ari parsed the threat, the roaring of her own pulse overpowering the background hum of the cooling fans thrumming in the darkness of the almost entirely empty editing room she was _so close_ to escaping from.

"Yes... sir” she swallowed shakily “ I _understand_."

She winced at the streak of blue light that pierced the darkness when Troy's metallic canines caught the monitor's glow as his mouth split into a vicious grin. 

" _Good girl_. Sleep tight then. Night night." the God King sneered through those sharp, sharp teeth...

\---

But Ariana _didn’t_ sleep tight, and she spent all night trying to work out exactly _why_.

* * *

If you enjoyed this _I’d love_ to hear comments or feedback, and you can check the rest of my twins HCs and writing:

[ **Here** ](https://border-spam.tumblr.com/post/617568682033479680/twins-hc-fic-masterlist)


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